


It's What They Do

by akaakeiji



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Compliant, Domestic Fluff, Feels, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluff without Plot, M/M, Post-Canon, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-23
Updated: 2018-05-23
Packaged: 2019-05-10 08:45:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14733755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akaakeiji/pseuds/akaakeiji
Summary: Truthfully, Kageyama loves staying at home. He is content with messy hair, shorts and socks. He likes the sunlight that colours their walls pale yellow and the breeze that sneaks through the window and hits his neck, and he loves Hinata’s humming and the warmth that comes with him, with his eyes and his silly smiles and his vitality. But Hinata is loud, very loud; he drums his fingers on his desk and types words on his laptop, he sighs theatrically and noisily and he speaks on the phone with Kenma, and Kageyama loves it, he really does, but it’s impossible to care about his education when Hinata is somewhere close to him.--An evening in the life of Kageyama and Hinata.(Prompts: "It's just a cut, really"/"Do we have popcorn?")





	It's What They Do

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kakikiro](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kakikiro/gifts).



> just a small drabble written for [veraspromptchallenge2018](http://fic-writer-appreciation.tumblr.com/writing-challenge), May day #13 and #27  
> and as a birthday present-thing for [@kakikiro](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kakikiro/pseuds/kakikiro) ([shouyou10 ](https://shouyou10.tumblr.com) on tumblr)  
> HAPPY BIRTHDAY TEA ILY!!  
> -  
> this is the first haikyuu!! fic I post and since this is a (kind of) surprise for Tea, she couldn't beta it, so I apologize for any mistakes! I will edit if I find some :)

Kageyama hates this. He thought a quiet café would be the right place to study.

He was imagining this: clouded up windows, his earphones playing the kind of background noise that genuinely helps him study, which is the sound of volleyballs and shoes on wood and heavy breaths. Hinata found the audio online once and talked about something called ASMR and Kageyama is fairly sure Hinata doesn’t even know what it is, but it’s a good sound, so he doesn’t care. He was imagining the steam dancing above his coffee and the sweet smell of baked goods and his assignment, the enemy he has to defeat.

Of course, Kageyama loves a challenge. He loves the rush he gets when Hinata says he can get ready more quickly than him, he loves pushing his legs further and being even a tiny bit faster than Hinata (which doesn’t always happen, actually). He enjoys proving Oikawa-san that he can now set the best tosses for every spiker. However, this, this stupid Japanese text he has to write about, is not a challenge, it’s a guaranteed failure. He feels like Hinata’s team the first time they met: unexperienced, hopeless, willing to try but destined to lose.

 _Oh, right, the café?_ So, so, noisy. Spoons against porcelain, doors opening and closing, the noise of milk being steamed and the murmurs; the quiet, but somehow annoying and distracting and so, so, infuriating murmurs. He has been tapping, tapping his fingers on the keyboard of his laptop, tapping his foot on the wooden floor, to the rhythm of his frustration.

His phone buzzes on the table and he clenches his fist, sighing. It’s not like he’s doing anything productive, anyway, so he’s allowed to look at it (he knows, deep down, that it is only going to make things worse, but at this point he doesn’t really care).

 **From:** Hinata

_Kageyama!!!!_

Kageyama sighs, almost face-palming himself because, honestly, he knows this is not going to be good.

 **To:** Hinata

_What did you do?_

He stares at the little dots bouncing on the screen while Hinata is typing and he jumps a little when he notices a person talking to him. “Would you like anything else?” the waitress asks, and Kageyama has to recover for a second before shaking his head.

“No, thanks, I’m alright.”

The girl smiles and leaves him alone and it’s the moment he decides to turn off his laptop and give up.

 **From:** Hinata

_Hey! Why do you always assume I did something!_

He’s still typing.

 **From:** Hinata

_I can’t believe I even made you dinner. So ungrateful!_

Kageyama smiles a little, hoping nobody is looking at him, because that would be creepy, first of all, but also because he doesn’t want people to think he’s weird, or that he smiles at stupid texts his boyfriend sends.

 **To:** Hinata

_How could I be grateful for something I don’t know you did, dumbass?_

**Form:** Hinata

_Bakageyaamaaa!! By now you should know that I always do something for you when you’re stressed out!!_

**To:** Hinata

_I’m not stressed out._

He is, actually, but he most certainly can’t admit it to Hinata. He falls with his arms crossed on his laptop and sighs, waiting for Hinata’s reply, which doesn’t take long.

 **From:** Hinata

_You almst forgot to put your shors earlier an_

Kageyama blinks, trying to decode the text.

 **From:** Hinata

_Sorry, my finger slipped lol. I was saying that I saw you almost pouring milk on your phone this morning!!_

Kageyama groans. He was so sure he hadn’t noticed, dammit!

 **To:** Hinata

_That’s because I was tired, you couldn’t stop moving last night, you weirdo._

**From:** Hinata

_I was dreaming about you, Kageyama-kun ( ˘ ³˘)♥_

Kageyama rolls his eyes and fights another smile. He notices, somewhat unsurprisingly, that the café isn’t noisy anymore. Well, it is, but it doesn’t bother him now that his attention is on something he muchly likes. However,

 **To:** Hinata

_Stop with the Oikawa faces._

There is something that he definitely doesn’t enjoy and apparently, Hinata doesn’t care.

 **From:** Hinata

_Kageyaaamaaaa if you can spend time on your phone why don’t you just come home so we can eat and then watch the women’s championship (˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈ʃƪ)_

Kageyama was already pulling the café door to leave the place after the previous text. He looks up at the sky and sees grey and white clouds running, covering the sun one second and blinding him right after.

 **To:** Hinata

_Please stop, I can’t take you seriously!!_

He fixes the strap of his backpack and starts walking. Since they moved to Tokyo, he has found himself wandering around Yanaka every time he needs a break from noise and people. He walks down a set of staircases of this quiet, but energetic area that reminds him of Miyagi and breathes in the nippy wind.   

 **From:** Hinata

_Okay cool, but you come home or I’ll watch it without you!_

**To:** Hinata

_OY!! I’ll kill you! You said we’d watch it together!!_

**From:** Hinata

_:D_

He sighs and puts his phone in his pocket. He decides to walk moderately slowly, just because he can. He knows Hinata would never watch a match alone if they agreed to watch it together, especially when Kageyama is working on something that isn’t volleyball, because that stresses him out more than anything, and Hinata might be an orange, overly enthusiastic, messy, loud boyfriend, but he’s also terribly caring and Kageyama is very, very, fond.

He enjoys the walk for five minutes, before his fingers start tapping on his leg impatiently and he just _has_ to walk faster, or run, actually, because that’s what it looks like to common humans.

In half an hour, he is on his front door, fiddling with the keys, head low; a small smile appears on his face when, upon opening the door, he hears one of Hinata’s self-written songs about washing the dishes. Once, when they were still at Karasuno, when they didn’t live together and they didn’t sleep together (in the figurative sense of the phrase, because, literally, they have been sleeping in the same bed since the time Hinata had forgotten his futon during a training camp and Tsukishima, being the sadist he is, claimed to have a great idea), Kageyama thought the songs were just a toilet thing, or a ‘meat buns! We’re getting meat buns!’ thing.

Since they moved together, however, Kageyama has learnt that Hinata sings (not very skilfully) about every domestic little thing, such as unpacking boxes, painting walls, fixing holes in the wall that they made by hammering a little too aggressively, and washing dishes, which is a classic of his repertoire.

“I’m home!” Kageyama shouts, taking his shoes and jacket off. Even after a year and a half, his heart feels oddly warm. He gets to say that to _Hinata;_ how did that even happen? Everything started when he was just an insensitive boy being unfairly (or maybe not) critical of Hinata and they went from constantly fighting and competing to lovingly fighting and competing, from arguing about the best volleyball brand to arguing about their seat on the couch.

“Yamayama!” Hinata greets, drying his hands with a tea towel before raising them excitedly in the air, warm brown eyes slightly squinting as a smile lights up his face.

“Oy, what are you so excited about?” Kageyama asks, and orange hair tickles his chin when he welcomes Hinata’s hug. He doesn’t really expect an answer to his question, since Hinata smiles and jumps and claps his hands for even the most common occasion (school doesn’t count, obviously).

“I don’t know!” Hinata replies, freeing Kageyama to set up the table. “Did you manage to work on your assignment?” he asks, looking at Kageyama, who doesn’t find it surprising when Hinata accidentally bumps his foot against the leg of the table, knocks a bottle of water over and curses under his breath.

“You’re so clumsy, focus on what you’re doing instead of staring!” Kageyama snickers and helps with the water, watching Hinata’s cheeks get puffier and rosier as he pouts, embarrassed. Really, Kageyama shouldn’t be the one talking, since he doesn’t do any better. On the volleyball court, he is all smooth, necessary movements, but off the court his limbs feel wrong and they disconnect entirely from his brain, or maybe his brain disconnects from the world, he doesn’t know. Anyway, the only difference between him and Hinata is that people are usually too scared to stare at Kageyama for too long, so he gets away with it, whereas you can’t help but _notice_ Hinata every time he moves.

Hinata huffs, hands on his hips. “You trip over the step at the front door _every day,_ Kageyama,” he remarks, reasonably, and Kageyama can only look away; _of course Hinata notices,_ he thinks _._ “So you haven’t done anything today, huh?” Hinata adds after crossing his arms.

Kageyama mimics him and says, or rather mumbles very faintly and hastily, “shut up, it’s your fault,” which isn’t, actually, and that’s why Hinata raises his eyebrows, pursing his mouth in a teasing smile.

“So the café wasn’t a great idea, was it?”

Kageyama shrugs. “Not really,” he says.

“Will you study here from now on?” Hinata asks.

“Yeah,” he answers, defeated. Truthfully, Kageyama loves staying at home. He is content with messy hair, shorts and socks. He likes the sunlight that colours their walls pale yellow and the breeze that sneaks through the window and hits his neck, and he loves Hinata’s humming and the warmth that comes with him, with his eyes and his silly smiles and his vitality. But Hinata is loud, very loud; he drums his fingers on his desk and types words on his laptop, he sighs theatrically and noisily and he speaks on the phone with Kenma, and Kageyama loves it, he really does, but it’s impossible to care about his education when Hinata is somewhere close to him.

That’s why he went outside, even though he doesn’t like it. Hinata also tried to be quiet and leave him alone one day (because, again, Kageyama has a terribly caring boyfriend), but it didn’t work. He knew that Hinata was there and the silence only felt wrong, so he just wrote three incoherent sentences of his report, grabbed a volleyball and asked Hinata to join him. Then, earlier this morning, Hinata said he was going to stay out all day and let him study, and at that Kageyama replied, “no way,” because it’s his damn assignment and he can’t let Hinata have the role of most considerate boyfriend while he goes down without a fight. That is not how they work.

“Don’t worry too much, you’ll get there eventually, you always do,” Hinata says, resting a hand on Kageyama’s shoulder.

Kageyama tilts his head and looks down at him, a little doubtful, but Hinata’s grin is reassuring and it’s all the courage he needs, really. Before he can thank him, though, his eyes are diverted by the pinkish plaster wrapped around Hinata’s forefinger. “What did you do?” Kageyama asks, grabbing Hinata’s hand to inspect it.

“It’s just a cut, really,” Hinata replies, shrugging, and lets Kageyama remove the bandage. It is, in fact, just a cut, deep enough to bleed but not enough to need more than a plaster.

“How?” He asks.

“I, uh,” he mumbles, rubbing his hair in embarrassment, “I was grabbing the scissors to open the bag of noodles and typing at the same time and the bread knife was right next to the scissors and it just _stabbed me_.”

Kageyama’s lips twitch; it’s not surprising at all. “You’re so embarrassing,” he scoffs, and when he tries to cover the wound Hinata stops him and throws the plaster away. Kageyama sees the box of plasters on the coffee table and hands it to Hinata. “Here,” he says.

The redhead shakes his head and puts two bowls of ramen on the table. “Don’t need it, it’s not bleeding anymore.”

“You’re going to get it infected,” argues Kageyama. Once, Hinata fell off his bike on a rainy day and Kageyama remembers the redness around the scratch when, two days later, he casually rested a hand on Hinata’s knee and the boy flinched, squinting his eyes. Natsu had thrown glitter on it, apparently, and Hinata ignored it until Kageyama threw a bottle of saline solution at his head.

“I will not!” Hinata cries, rolling his eyes. “I risked my volleyball career to make you dinner and you still haven’t shown any gratitude, pfft.”   

“Shut up,” he says, grabbing his chopsticks. “You just had to mix stuff together and stick it in the microwave, which is fine because I could never trust you with more challenging tasks,” he teases, slurping his ramen.

Hinata gulps down his noodles abruptly and Kageyama notices a drop of broth jumping onto his nose. “Rude!” he shouts, but it is impossible to find anger in his voice.

Kageyama grabs a napkin and stretches out to clean the faintly freckled nose. “Especially if it involves bread knives,” he jokes.

Hinata starts his protests, explaining that the bread knife wasn’t meant to be there and that they should change their cutlery, or maybe change their furniture, or, perhaps, they could look for a new flat, one that doesn’t have a tiny kitchen. Kageyama listens, cheek on his knuckles and eyebrows raised, staring at Hinata’s tangerine curls move as he talks about one of those home makeover TV shows that he likes.

This is very familiar to Kageyama; the ajar window, the sheer curtains and the pendant lights that make Hinata’s hair look more orange and his amber eyes warmer. The smell of spices and the noise of the washing machine running, the pair of feet that lightly kick his chin under the table, all is soothing him. This is routine, it should be nothing special, except it is.

Kageyama grew up in a traditional family and life had never been adventurous before Hinata. Yes, he has always had volleyball and the thrill of the court and the joy of being victorious, but he used to play by the rules. Then Hinata showed up and defied the conventions of the game, always looking for something new, something more challenging, something that was worth fighting for, including Kageyama himself.

Now Kageyama remembers how it felt to hold hands during a music festival because he was afraid to lose Hinata in the crowd, and the adrenaline that almost knocked him out during a roller coaster ride at Fuji-Q Highland, or how his heart hopped when they went trampolining and Hinata kept trying out new stunts right next to him. He’s fairly sure that he would have never done anything fun if he hadn’t met Hinata.

Kageyama looked down on him when they first met, asked him, “what are you doing here, anyway? Making memories?” and that young, somewhat selfish boy would have never thought that, eventually, his own memories would be filled with the redhead in front of him, with impulsive late night walks and stirring kisses that nobody knew they shared.

“Tobio? Are you even listening?” Hinata asks, pout and frown on, putting empty bowls in the sink.

Kageyama lost him when he started contemplating life, probably, so he shakes his head sheepishly, mumbling, “no, sorry.”

“You were staring,” Hinata says, showing his knowing, elfin, smile.

“I was not,” he grumbles rolling his eyes, and stands up to grab his phone.

“Hmm, sure,” Hinata murmurs, walking around the table. He suddenly jumps on Kageyama’s back, wrapping his arms around his neck, tiptoes attached to the floor, and Kageyama does everything he can to keep his phone in his hands. “Is it because you missed me today, huh, Kageyama-kun?”

Kageyama sighs and holds Hinata’s wrists, carrying their bodies to the couch while they giggle. “Let’s go watch that match or Noya-san will spoil it for us.”

They fall on blankets and pillows, both sighing contently. “Do we have popcorn?” Hinata asks, yawning and spreading his arms wide.

“Maybe,” Kageyama shrugs, watching Hinata’s legs stretch on his lap as he lies his whole body on the couch. Kageyama raises an eyebrow, asking, “but are you willing to get up to make them?”  

Hinata grabs the remote and turns the TV on. “Nope,” he says, shaking his head with a grin, arm hanging off.  

Kageyama glares at him, squinting his eyes knowingly. Now that he has thought about popcorn, Kageyama wants popcorn, and Hinata knows it, _the little shit_. “Are you saying I have to?”

Kageyama watches as Hinata’s fingers walk rhythmically along the back pillows, faint smile on (that _he knows_ Kageyama notices). “Please?”

Kageyama groans, because there’s a part of him that doesn’t want to lose to Hinata even in the silliest situations, _especially_ if he’s using one of his prettiest and most loved by Kageyama features against him. He pinches the bare skin on Hinata’s thigh. “Alright,” he announces, throwing Hinata’s legs in the air while he stands up.

As he walks out of the living room, laughing, he hears Hinata shout, “that hurt Bakageyamaa!!”    

When he sits back on the couch, hot bag of savoury popcorn in his hands, Hinata is grinning with shining eyes. “You’re the best!” he says, regaining his previous position on the couch. He grabs a handful of popcorn and shoves it in his mouth. “You’re an idiot, though,” he adds, kicking Kageyama’s knee, “this is for the pinch!”

“Oy!” he cries, rubbing at his knee. Hinata can only show his beam in response, so Kageyama can only roll his eyes and punch his hip playfully, because it’s what they do. “Shut up and press play,” he says, laying the bag of popcorn on Hinata’s tummy so that they can both reach it.

The match they’re watching is a good one, Kageyama thinks, and they find themselves cheering and cursing for both teams as Fukuoka University wins the first set. There’s a break that they could skip since the match is recorded, but they don’t bother. Kageyama’s hand reaches the end of the bag of popcorn and offers the leftover to Hinata, who gleefully accepts.

“Thanks-ah!” he jumps and sticks his finger in his mouth. When Kageyama looks at him questioningly, he explains, breaking his words to suck at his wound, “stupid popcorn… there’s so much... salt at the bottom, it burns…” and Kageyama tries to suppress a laugh. “Stop laughing at me!” He kicks Kageyama’s leg and before he can even react, Hinata lifts his back up and unceremoniously extends his finger under Kageyama’s nose. “Kiss it!”

“What? Why?!” Kageyama shouldn’t be concerned, really, since he has kissed most parts of Hinata’s anatomy.

“Because it’s what you do when people get hurt!”

“You mean when _kids_ get hurt,” he remarks, holding Hinata’s wrist, but doesn’t push it away. Instead, he heaves in a dramatic sigh and gives him a quick peck on the cut, tasting a weak saltiness. “Here, don’t get used to it.”

“Ah, Kageyama,” he says, propping down on the couch again, “always so stingy, even with kisses!”

Kageyama furrows his eyebrows, balling up the paper bag on his lap and throwing it on the floor. He makes incredibly ungraceful movements, pulls Hinata’s legs towards him and presses his whole body against Hinata’s.

“Kageyama I can’t breathe!!” Hinata protests and Kageyama pushes himself up only enough to plant hasty kisses on every part of Hinata’s face, whose cheeks become warmer and redder.

“Hmm hmm, you were saying?” He asks and quickly returns to his task, ignoring Hinata’s giggles. Kageyama remembers when Hinata called him stingy the first time, when he didn’t want to throw tosses to a boy that sucked at the basics and didn’t know that he would end up tossing to him countless times, _wishing_ to toss to him.

Hinata manages to free his hands and cups Kageyama’s face between them. At some point, he notices, he must have paused the match, because Kageyama can only hear the sound of Hinata’s breaths as he stares in his eyes. He might be smiling, possibly, because Hinata has the kind of look on his face that reminds Kageyama of the first time they kissed, when Hinata murmured with a pleased hum, “this is the prettiest smile I’ve seen on you, Kageyama, we should kiss more.”

“That you’re a stingy idiot,” Hinata says now, closing the not very considerable distance between them with a decisive kiss that doesn’t take long to heat up Kageyama’s body, and, as he feels under his touch, Hinata’s.

It’s always hot, Hinata’s body, always warm from practice or running, and it’s one of the reasons why everyone associates him with the sun. But Kageyama can do more than that; he is the only one who can touch it like this, who can glide his hands across his thigh and feel the salt on his lips.

They lose themselves for a few minutes, touching and kissing and clutching, and Kageyama has every intention to carry on, but a sudden clamour, people cheering loudly, scares Hinata, and Kageyama gets kneed in the leg before falling awkwardly and slowly off the couch while Hinata tries to pull him back by his shirt, obviously failing.

“What did you do that for?” He asks, caressing his hip, registering that the TV is now on.

“Uh,” Hinata starts, revealing the remote under his back, “I for- Tobio look!”

Kageyama follows Hinata’s eyes, while he sits cross legged on the floor. The libero of Otsu University has just saved an almost impossible ball (almost, because he played with Nishinoya for two years and a few things were impossible for him) and the setter is forced to toss from the backline and Kageyama has only the time to think, _nice,_ before the left wing spiker hits the ball and destroys the block in front of her.

Hinata slumps next to him, cheering. “Waah! That was amazing, wasn’t it, Kageyama? The libero received like _bwah!_ ” He raves about the rally, mimicking the players’ actions as though Kageyama hadn’t witnessed them.    

He sees in Hinata’s eyes the same glow and energy that Kageyama feels, the same enthusiasm for the sport that brought them together, the same desire to be on the court that they have always shared, and realises for the umpteenth time since they met, that he wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. Kageyama knows it’s a clichéd thought, that Tsukishima would probably mock him for it and say how lame he is (luckily, he has no intention to confess it to him, so he’s safe).  

But if Kageyama belongs somewhere outside the volleyball court, it’s definitely here, he thinks; next to Hinata.

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this to take a break from an iwaoi long one shot I'm writing and I know that nothing really happens, but I decided to post it as a gift for someone that loves kagehina as much as I do anyway!
> 
> you can yell at me for any mistakes or comments on [tumblr](https://akaakeiji.tumblr.com)!!  
> hope you enjoyed!


End file.
